Edge
by Pickzee
Summary: “They want me to tell the story of what pushed me here, so that they can psychoanalyze me, like little modern Freuds and Jungs.” Here is the story Ellie told.


**Title:** Edge

**Rating:** PG-13, possibly R in later chapters

**Warnings:** Graphic depictions of self-injury, suicidal behavior. Some scenes could be triggering to current or recovering self-injurers, use your own discretion while reading.

**Summary:** "They want me to tell the story of what pushed me here, so that they can psychoanalyze me, like little modern Freuds and Jungs." Here is the story Ellie told.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Degrassi, nor do I own characters from Degrassi. I can only claim the plot and writing style as my own. _A Doll's House_ by Henrick Ibsen is quoted in this chapter, and that also is not mine.

**-**

**Chapter One**

**-**

The last time I had my private session, they gave me this notebook and told me to write. They want me to tell the story of what pushed me here, so that they can psychoanalyze me, like little modern Freuds and Jungs. I had always wanted to write a novel; instead, I now write my memoir, but it shall never be published nor achieve New York Times bestseller fame. There is no clean-cut Hollywood beginning, but I guess this is no better or worse than any other.

-

The first time I really felt it, in all its icy glory, was last March in Kwan's class. We were studying_ A Doll's House_, watching as students acted out passages from the play and taking notes on various themes and literary devices that presented themselves. Having finished reading the play last night, I turned my attention to the desktop under my hands. Doodles and text had turned the tan surface into a classroom message board. _Manny is a slut_ read one of the statements. Immediately after it someone had written, _I heard she gives good head_. Several responses to that had been scrawled on the desk, each ina different colored ink and a different hand.

"...Ellie." I had become so lost in reading the inane gossip that I barely noticed Mrs. Kwan call my name.

"Huh?"

"Could you please read for Nora on the first page of Act II? Hazel, please read the part of Anne-Marie. Ellie, please start at Nora's fifth line on the page 'Oh, worse things could happen...'"

I walked to the front of the room, my eyes firmly fastened to the tops of my boots. My voice crackled like a cell phone with bad reception as I read the first line. "Oh, worse things could happen - How are th-the children?"

"The poor mites are playing with their presents, but-" Hazel read in clear voice.

"Do they ask for me much?" I rushed. I had never been comfortable with public speaking and seeing Spinner snicker behind his hand wasn't doing much to lure back my already absent confidence. Hazel had already read her line, and now mine was late. "Yes. But Anne-Marie, I _can't_ be together with them as much as I was."

"Well, small children get used to anything."

"You think so? Do you think they'd forget their mother if she was gone for good?" I knew that if _I_ left forever no one would remember or care about me. Sure, Marco and Ashley would cry for a bit, but their boyfriends would dry the tears and they would go on living their everyday life. I would not be remembered, just one more number in a teen death statistic.

"Oh, mercy - gone for good!" Hazel exclaimed over dramatically, throwing her hands up against her face so that she vaguely resembled "The Scream." I'd always loved that painting, the desolation of the scene and loneliness of the figure seemed to resonate of my own life. There was a print of it hanging in my room and I could spend hours staring at it, getting lost in the confused swirls of the background, wondering why he was screaming.

"Thank you Ellie, Hazel." Mrs. Kwan motioned us back to our seats with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It is in this dialogue that Nora brings up the concept of leaving for good. What do you think she means by this? Craig?"

"She's thinking about running away, and avoiding the problem for the rest of her life," he said.

"A good thought. Any others?" Inexplicably, I raised my hand. "Go ahead Ellie."

"Suicide. Like Craig said, Nora wants to avoid the repercussions of her actions, but rather than just avoiding the conflict through leaving, she considers ending it totally."

"She'd know a lot about that, what with how she went all crazy and tried slitting her wrists or something last year," Spinner said in a stage-whisper, his right hand miming the signal for crazy next to his temple. A few students laughed, and I could feel the heat rising to my face. The corners of my eyes filled with tears; it took all my will not to let them fall.

Mrs. Kwan's face turned into a mess of harsh angles and angry planes. "Gavin! Comments like that are not appreciated and will not be tolerated in this classroom. Please direct yourself to Mr. Raditch's office; I trust you know your way by now. Now, Ibsen revisits the theme of leaving permanently several pages later in a conversation between Nora and Krogstad. Heather, Jimmy could you please read this section, starting at the top of page?"

Again, I began to tune out the class, absorbing myself instead in the miniature gossip column written on my desk. I finished reading about Manny's promiscuity, taking note of a line written in Ash's tight, perfect print. In the dead center of the desk, there was a smudge of graphite, as though someone had tried to erase something. Craning my neck, I tried to see what rumor could be so offensive that someone had felt the need to censor it. There, in a thin little ghost letters, someone had written _Ellie Nash should be committed. _The words were a swarm of black flies, buzzing franticly around my head. It would be uselessly to try and exorcise the words further - they had become engrained in the desk, much as the sentiment behind them had become engrained in the minds of those around me.

-

I stopped reading the scrawl on my desk after that. Class came and went in a blur of morbid introspection, until the bell heralding the period's end finally gave me a reprieve from my thoughts.

"Hey! Sit with me at lunch? We can plan what we'll do this weekend," Ashley said, coming up behind me and grabbing my arm. It was the last day before spring break, and Ashley's family had invited me to go with them for a long weekend in the city. Because we were leaving right after school, I had everything I needed for the trip in my locker.

"Sure, I just have to stop at the bathroom first - that time of the month."

"Argh, I hate that, it always happens so you get it right when you want it the least. I'll save you a spot at the table."

"Thanks," I said as we parted ways. I stopped at my locker, and rather than taking out a tampon, I grabbed one of the disposable razors that I'd packed, slipping it into the pocket of my hoodie. The walk to the bathroom seemed to take twice as long as usual, wracked as I was with the fear of being pulled over and searched. I made it to the bathroom without incident and locked myself within a stall. The safety casing on the razor resisted my attempts to crack it, only finally snapping when I pushed my nail into a small fracture and forcibly pried it apart. The plastic shattered, and three razor blades fell into my hand. Rolling back my sleeve, I grasped the largest of the blades in my hand. I pushed it in just below my elbow, relishing the bite as the layers of my skin split beneath it. One inch, two inches, I dragged the edge over my skin. There seemed to be a time delay as the blood filled the cut and welled over the sides. Tension and sadness escaped with the blood; I felt my stomach unclench as I made another cut across my forearm. As I tucked the razor blades safely in my pocket and wound toilet paper around my arm to slow the bleeding, I realized that, for the first time in almost a year, I had cut.

-

TBC

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Author's Note: A short chapter, I realize. This is my first fic for the Degrassi fandom, and I hope it's fairly well received. Reviews are nice, but not necessary, and I really love people who critique my writing. Not much more to say now other than that I need a beta and would anyone be willing to beta for me? Oh, and both Ellie and Craig are right - Nora considers both running away and committing suicide. _A Doll's House_ is a good play, very revolutionary at the time it was written, and I urge all to either read or watch it. I'll stop rambling now.


End file.
